Lips Of An Angel
by daemoninwhite
Summary: The night of his marriage, someone recieves a teary phone call from his lover, breaking it off between them.


Title: Lips Of An Angel

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of the characters mention. I also do not own the lyrics to Lips of and Angel or Better Then Me.

Warnings: It isn't incest, however some of the characters mention are in a sexual relationship and are related, but the incest label only applies if they are siblings. Various characters are OOC to varying degrees. And I hate having to give the next warning, because I believe that I shouldn't have to, but I mention a homosexual relationship.

Not a particularly long or deeply involved one … but I like it. Dedicated to Erin because she was the first person who I ever mentioned this too, and because I owe her a Kakairu fic that is currently dead. Please forgive me Erin! And please review.

888

Night seems to cast a spell. As it darkens and deepens, everything else becomes lower and quieter until no noise is made and no movement can be seen. Everything, that is, except for one figure who quietly got out of bed. They flick long hair that seemed to blend into the shadows behind them as they take a glance at their bed partner, the twist in position allowing the moonlight to prove that said figure was either male or a decidedly unlucky female. The soft noise that had disturbed the silence repeated, the odd sound of metal vibrating on wood seeming to echo in the small and silent apartment.

The male sighs softly as he completes his move, gracefully climbing to his feet. The noise repeats, changing slightly as he picks the mobile up and silently walks out of the room, only looking back to shut the door behind him. He moves silently and swiftly down a sparse hallway, occasionally glancing around as he does so. Finally, he comes to a door that seems exactly like the rest, only instead of passing onwards he opens the door and enters the room.

The room is littered with softly shining balloons and confetti whispers under his feet as he takes a look at the full moon before finally looking at the screen on the mobile. He takes an extended blink before answering.

"Honey why you calling me so late? It's kinda hard to talk right now." He whispers softly, glancing around as though guilty or nervous. His expression changes into one of concern as his caller replies. Slightly louder he asks again, "Honey why you crying, is everything ok? Gotta whisper cuz I can't be too loud."

A longer pause, relief is evident in his face and the naked male pads over to one of the couches, sweeping the balloons off it with one arm. "Well my girl's in the next room." The sometimes I wish she was you goes unsaid for the moment. He bitterly laughs, just remembering to keep his voice quiet. "I guess we never really moved on."

A smile lights his face brighter then the moon ever could, eyes that would easily outshine the moon lightening somehow as he admits to the unknown person on the other end, "It's really good to hear your voice, saying my name it sounds so sweet, coming from the lips of an angel hearing those words…" a pause and slight laugh, "it makes me weak. And I never wanna say goodbye, but boy you make it hard to be faithful, with the lips of an angel."

His smile takes a slightly perverted turn as he lies back against the couch, hair blending into the shadows, eyes reflecting the moon as he admits "It's funny that you're calling me tonight. And yes I've dreamt of you too." The smile dims, eyes going dark again as he thinks of the innocent figure he left lying in the bed, eyes going to the decorations that glitter faintly in the moonlight. "She doesn't know your talking to me, it'd start a fight." He admits, looking slightly shamed, but continuing all the same, "No I don't think she has a clue."

The complaining from the other end is almost audible, and he reminds the caller, "Well my girl's in the next room, sometimes I wish she was you." The words begging to get out are finally spoken, and he revels in the other's slight gasp, "I guess we never really moved on… It's really good to hear your voice, saying my name it sounds so sweet, coming from the lips of an angel hearing those words it makes me weak. And I never wanna say goodbye, but boy you make it hard to be faithful, with the lips of an angel."

His voice drops even quieter, eyes half closing as he looses himself in all that he can of the caller, the caller's voice mixing with his memories of the caller until he can almost pretend that instead of being over a thousand kilometers away they are together.

He whispers again, "It's really good to hear your voice…"

There is silence as he visibly pulls himself together, going back to the original topic, "Honey why you calling me so late?"

888

"...why you calling me so late?" It's beginning to be evening, the sun still defiantly lighting up the sky beyond the flat horizon. It coaxes clouds into a radiant display of light that has no effect on the sullen man lying on the couch facing the sunset, unconsciously letting the light play over his features. Thick hair, disarrayed by semi-constant hand tugging, pulling and playing refuses to blend in against the cream coloured couch, instead stand out in a vibrant, and natural (seeing as there is no hint of another colour around the roots) crimson red. Moonlight pale skin covers a delicate looking face, eyes heavily bruised from what is either liberally applied eye makeup or insomnia. The bruises flicker, opening to show pale green eyes that stare unseeingly at the sunset and the surrounding desert, apparently unaware of the tears silently making their way down his face.

His eyes dart to the other side of the room, focusing on the heavy, pale moon that is slowly gliding its way up the dusky sky. Soon it will be nighttime, and he will spend it looking out the window, thinking about the one he is talking too.

He inaudibly sighs, and, blinking and sending a fresh was of tears down his face halting begins to speak to the one he has called. "I think you can do much better then me." A pause while he sniffs and desperately searches for his usual apathy. "After all the lies that I made you believe." His voice lowers self-consciously as he admits, "Guilt kicks in and I start to see, the edge of the bed where you nightgown used to be."

There is silence from the other end as he pulls himself together again, trying not to think of the pain that he is causing his most precious person by speaking, and continues to speak, fighting against the voice inside of his head that is begging him to tell his callee that he misses him. "I told myself I won't miss you, but I remember…" He trails off, eyes closing in remembered bliss, "what it feels like beside you…"

He sits up and wipes the tears from his cheeks as he walks away from the pale couch and towards the window that faces the rising moon. One arm going around his slim waist in another attempt at self-comfort, he weakly admits, "I really miss your hair in my face and the way your innocence tastes…" he sniffs quietly, waiting to see if the other will interrupt him. When he isn't, his mouth opens again, "and I think you should know this… You deserve so much better then me. While looking through your old box of notes, I found those pictures I tookthat you were looking for." He smiles, something that for him is only a slight up twitching of the lips, " If there's one memory I don't wanna loose, that time at the mall, you and me and the dressing room."

He turns and opens a wooden door set into the wall adjacent to the window containing the rising sun. He shuts the door behind him, and plunges the room into darkness. The slight sounds of someone shuffling and of rustling material fill the quite room until he pulls the curtains apart, revealing the sunset once again. He turns and flops onto a seldom-used bed, if the slight dust could that rises at his actions is to be believed.

His eyes close as he repeats, "I told myself I won't miss you, but I remember what it feels like beside you." Unconsciously he curls onto his side, seeking the phantom warmth that he is destroying any chance of receiving ever again. "I really miss your hair in my face and the way your innocence tastes and I think you should know this cuz you deserve so much better then me…" The tears start again, slipping and sliding silently down his face to wet the deep blue pillow.

"The bed I'm lying in is getting colder…" His voice trails off and he suddenly sits up, eyes flashing with sudden angry, more directed at himself then at his partner, "we should have never said it was over, and I can pretend…" The anger drains out of his voice as he speaks, eyes sliding shut again, "I won't think about you when I'm older, cuz we never really had a closure." His mouth clearly forms the words 'this can't be the end', but however much his heart screams at him his brain does not allow him to speak them aloud. "I really miss your hair in my face and the way your innocence tastes." An unneeded breath is taken as he prepares for the finale blow to the gossamer thread connecting them. "And I think you should know this cuz you deserve so much better then me."

888

The phone dies in his hand, disconnected from the other end. Neji stars at it before getting off the couch, leaving the phone behind on the table. If that is the way that Gaara wants it, then he will allow the delicate Sand nin to go, and he will return to his loveless (on his side, he is not sure about hers), duty marriage to Hinata. They will have a couple of pale-eyed babies to continue his own personal curse until he is mercifully freed. The life on a ninja is a dangerous one, after all.

888

A shaking hand rises to his mouth in a pitiful attempt to silence his body shaking and soul tearing sobs. The phone is lying in a mess of wires and broken plastic on the floor, haven't being disconnected but being thrown against the wall with as much strength as he could muster. Neji will move on, forget him and have many pale-eyed babies with his new wife. He will be accepted by his family again, his short tryst with a delicate, red haired demon carrier with no bloodline limit but the sand, which he would not be able to pass on anyway seeing as they are both boys, all but forgotten. He will be happy.

And Gaara will continue to protect his village, until one day the sand finally fails and he is free. The life of a ninja is a dangerous one after all, the Kazekage's even more so.

888

If You Love Someone, Let Them Go.

If They Come Back To You, They're Yours.

If They Don't They Never Were.

888

Should I have a warning stating that Neji is naked in most of the fic? Again, please review.


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